Indian Cooking Videos

Making Jalebis

Jalebis are an Indian sweet (and, like most Indian desserts, horribly sweet).

shot Oct 30, 2004, 2:01 mins, 2.8 MB

Making Rumali Roti (“Handkerchief Bread”)

shot Oct 31, 2004, 0:52 mins

Making Naan

shot Oct 29, 2004, 1:15 mins, 1.8 MB

This was taken at an outdoor campfire feast, with a team of hired cooks. I think the darker balls of dough you see at the beginning are makki ki roti (corn bread). When you hear my voice, I’m speaking a mishmash of Italian, English, and Hindi.

Learn Italian in Song: Via Con Me

(Come) Away with Me

Paolo Conte, 1981. Below is the Neri per Caso version that first introduced me to the song.

Continue reading Learn Italian in Song: Via Con Me

Learn Italian in Song: L’Ultimo Bacio

The Last Kiss

Carmen Consoli

Cerchi riparo fraterno conforto
tendi le braccia allo specchio
ti muovi a stento e con sguardo severo
biascichi un malinconico Modugno

 

Di quei violini suonati dal vento

l’ultimo bacio mia dolce bambina
brucia sul viso come gocce di limone
l’eroico coraggio di un feroce addio

ma sono lacrime mentre piove
piove
mentre piove

piove
mentre piove
piove
Magica quiete velata indulgenza
dopo l’ingrata tempesta
riprendi fiato e con intenso trasporto
celebri un mite e insolito risveglio

Mille violini suonati dal vento

l’ultimo abbraccio mia amata bambina
nel tenue ricordo di una pioggia d’argento
il senso spietato di un non ritorno

Di quei violini suonati dal vento

l’ultimo bacio mia dolce bambina
brucia sul viso come gocce di limone
l’eroico coraggio di un feroce addio

ma sono lacrime
mentre piove
piove
mentre piove
piove
mentre piove
piove

 

You seek shelter, fraternal comfort

Stretch out your arms to the mirror
you move with difficulty and with a severe glance
you… a melancholy Modugno [song]

From those violins played by the wind
The last kiss, my sweet little girl
burns on the face like drops of lemon

the heroic rouage of a ferocious goodbye
but they are tears while it rains,
rains,
while it rains,
rains,
while it rains,
rains,

Magical quiet, veiled indulgence
after the ungrateful storm
catch your breatch and with intense transport
you celebrate a gentle and unusual awakening
A thousand violins played by the wind

the last embrace my beloved girl

in the tenuous memory of a silver rain
the merciless sense of a non return

Of those violins played by the wind
The last kiss my sweet girl
burns on the face like drops of lemon
the heroic courage of a ferocious goodbye
but they are tears
while it rains,
rains,
while it rains,
rains,
while it rains,

rains

 
 

Deirdré Straughan on Italy, India, the Internet, the world, and now Australia